cover by danceswithgary

Title:  In His Image

Author: danceswithgary (danceswithgary@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Kal-El/Lex

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: None

Spoilers:  None

Word Count: 42,000

Archive: Fine, just let me know

Summary: It should have been a simple investigation. A pair of green eyes in a beautiful face changed everything.

Notes: 04/15/07 After guessing which two stories I wrote for <lj user="harlequin_sv"> in a  poll,<lj user="roxymissrose"> wrote: wait--wait! I won a prize!! Anything that grabs you, but please, nice and SF flavored if you can?

Standard Disclaimer:  I do not own any of the characters herein. The characters of Lex Luthor and Clark Kent as well as any supporting characters are the property of their creators and DC Comics. Gough/Millar Inc and the WB Network TV own Smallville. Any deviations (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.

Feedback is both welcome and appreciated.

***

In His Image

***

Falling to his knees in the dried grass, the dark-haired young man yanked at the metal collar around his neck, gasping for breath. His attempt at removal failing, his head dropped, green eyes closed in momentary defeat. Broad chest heaving with rasping coughs; he forced himself to his feet once again and stumbled forward blindly. Reaching a cluster of boulders, he was brought up short in an agonized convulsion, veins standing out across his face as well as his torso where his shirt had torn open. He fell heavily and the earth gave way beneath him, several large rocks following him down into the abyss.

. . .

"Luthor."

The handsome black man watched as his more senior partner reached for a pen to take notes. He waited patiently as the bald man repeated an address in clipped tones and then hung up the desk phone abruptly.

"C'mon, Ross, we've got a body on the Kawatche reservation." The older man reached inside his desk drawer, pulled out his standard-issue revolver and checked it before settling it into his underarm holster. A quick check of the badge in the inner pocket of his suit and he stood, his tall lean body poised for action.

Performing his own check, the younger man frowned. "Any details, Lex?"

Walking towards the elevator, Lex shrugged. "Not really, but obviously it's suspicious enough to bring in the FBI." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a set of keys and tossed them back over his shoulder. "Here, you drive. I was up all night on that stakeout and I want to catch some sleep on the way there."

Catching the key ring just before it hit the floor, Ross grinned. "Gee, Lex, twist my arm. I mean, how come I always have to drive the Porsche?"

Standing inside the open elevator, Lex shook his head and laughed. "Just get in here, Pete, and shut up before I decide we need to take one of the sedans all the way out to Smallville."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." Pete flipped Lex a quick salute right before switching it to a single finger. The elevator closed on shared laughter as the two men descended to the garage.

. . .

Waking with a gasp, Lex sat bolt upright in the passenger seat, blinking in the sunlight. At Pete's concerned look, he shrugged and loosened his tie, flicking open the top button of his shirt and wishing he had taken off his suit jacket before getting into the car. He could feel the back of his shirt clinging unpleasantly where the dream had left him sweating in the old fear. He hadn't had that particular dream for years, but it seemed to have returned with a vengeance since he'd requested the assignment to the Metropolis bureau. He supposed that actually being on the road to the original location of his nightmare was a guarantee that he'd be enjoying interrupted sleep for weeks.

Shoving back the cuff of his shirt, he checked his watch, the watch his mother had given him six months ago on his return to the city where he was raised, the city the Luthors had always considered their own. She knew then she was dying and she'd made sure he understood the significance of the Napoleon coin used for the watch face. Her insistence that she would continue to be part of his life even after death, just as Napoleon's mother had been painted into the emperor's coronation, was supposed to be a comfort. So far, it only recalled the memory of her last pain-filled days, rather than being the desired reminder of happier times with her and Julian, his younger brother. His grief was still fresh though, and he hoped the watch would serve its purpose in the future.

Catching the gesture out of the corner of his eye, Pete flicked a glance to Lex's face before returning his focus to the road. "We should be there in about half an hour, we made good time."

"I'd be disappointed if that wasn't the case." Lex made an effort to lighten the mood in the car. "It would have been a complete waste of this car if you insisted on staying within the speed limit every time you drove it." He relaxed back into the leather seat, his smooth skull balanced on the perfectly positioned headrest. Just the sound of the turbocharged engine soothed him even though he'd relinquished the pleasure of handling it to his partner. A gift to himself on his promotion to Inspector, the silver gray beauty was his pride and joy, only trusted to a privileged few. Pete Ross had earned that trust ten-fold in the last six months, proving to be an able field agent and capable second-in-command whenever Lex was called out to other offices in the state. Knowing Pete would alert him when they approached the site of the investigation, Lex let his eyelids drift shut again for a few more minutes of rest.

As his mind drifted, the memory of fire and pain intruded and he found himself immersed in the past again. Surrounded by green stretching endlessly around and overhead, he ran gasping, crying out for his father. He heard the gruff voice calling his name only to be drowned out by a whistling scream from the sky. Flames erupted, consuming everything in their path, everything including his father. Screaming, fists clenched against his ears, Lex watched as the roiling dark cloud overwhelmed him, frozen in fear.

"Fuck!" This time, when Lex jerked himself awake, the car had stopped and Pete had turned in his seat, frowning, his hand reaching out to touch Lex tentatively on his shoulder. Passing his hand over his head and scowling at the fresh sweat, Lex reached into the glove box for a towel and dried off his hand. Glancing at Pete's worried face, he shrugged. "C'mon. Let's get in there."

"Lex." Pete's low tone stopped Lex before he could open his door. "Are you...?"

Lex pushed down on the door handle and pushed the door open. One foot out on the pavement, he looked back over his shoulder. "I'll be fine." He got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Turning, he looked over the roof at Pete who was still watching him. Passing his hand over his naked skull one last time, he gave a self-deprecating smile. "On the way back, remind me to tell you how this happened."

One eyebrow raised, Pete nodded. "I'll hold you to that." A chirp and the car doors were locked and the two men walked together toward the dark entrance of the Kawatche caves where a tribal elder waited.

. . .

"Are you the FBI agents?" The older man standing at the entrance examined the two agents with a stoic look on his weathered face. "I am Professor Joseph Willowbook. I was asked to escort you by the tribal council since I have been researching these caves for years." Flashing their badges, Lex and Pete introduced themselves to the elder and asked why there were no police barriers up. The professor shrugged, unconcerned about the lack of proper police procedure. "I suppose it's because the body has been removed already."

"Removed? Was it taken to the morgue? When?" Pete was taking notes while Lex prowled around the entrance. "Were there any witnesses?"

"My granddaughter Kyla found the body yesterday when she went into the cavern. There had been a rockfall and a new passage opened up. When she entered the new area, she saw that a hole had opened up above and a large pile of rocks had fallen in. It wasn't until she began examining the walls that she noticed the body under the rocks." Crossing his arms and resting them on his chest, the older man shook his head, frowning. "It looked as if the fall probably killed the man; it was over a hundred feet. If not, then it was most likely the rocks that fell afterward that crushed him, at least that's what the medical examiner said."

Lex had returned from his initial inspection and stood to one side, watching Pete conduct the interview.  When he heard the suspected cause of death, he exchanged a glance with Pete before asking his own question. "If it was an accidental death, why were we called in?"

Willowbrook shrugged. "You would have to ask the sheriff about that. All I know is I'm supposed to show you where it happened."

Retrieving flashlights from the car, Pete and Lex followed Willowbrook into the dark cave. After several turns through twisted passageways, they arrived at the new opening. Stepping carefully over the rockslide, they entered an open area with a vaulted ceiling, sunlight filtering through from a small opening overhead. Willowbrook pointed to a pile of rocks centered under the opening. "There's where Kyla found the body. She said it looked like he had been dead for a few days, in pretty bad shape. She called the sheriff right away, didn't try to touch anything."

Squatting next to the pile of rocks, Lex noted a darker patch of earth that extended a few feet in each direction. Touching it, he brought his hand back up, rubbing the dirt between his fingers and smelling it. The iron tang and the red-brown color left little doubt that it was blood, supporting the supposition that the death had occurred at that site. Standing, he pointed his flashlight at the walls, his eyes widening when he saw that there were primitive drawings and symbols in several locations.

Willowbrook's eyes followed the beam of the flashlight. For the first time since they had arrived, his face became animated. "My granddaughter was very excited when she saw what the rockfall had exposed." He pointed to the figure of a man who seemed to have something coming out of his eyes. "We have been searching for these for many years. They tell the story of Naman, about the origins of the Kawatche tribe. The elders always claimed it was written in the earth long ago, but no one knew where to find them."

"That's really interesting, Professor Willowbrook, but not what we're here for."

Pete's polite reminder jarred Lex out of his fascinated examination of the symbols and he nodded reluctantly. "I guess we better head for the sheriff's office to find out exactly *why* we were called. Thank you for bringing us through the caves, Professor." He headed for the opening, expecting Pete to follow, when the light from another flashlight signaled a new arrival.

A young woman with long, dark hair stepped through the opening and stood looking at the agents. Willowbrook smiled and walked forward. "Kyla, I wasn't expecting you. I was just going to show these agents back out." He shook his head with a frown. "I'm afraid they've wasted their time, coming all the way out here for nothing."

"It wasn't a waste of time. I was the one that insisted that the sheriff call your office." Reaching over her shoulder, Kyla pulled a manila envelope from her backpack. "I think you'll see why when you look at these photographs." Handing the envelope to Lex, she nodded towards it. "I'm not convinced it was an accident. I think he was murdered, despite what the medical examiner said."

. . .

Back out in the sunlight, the pictures that Kyla had handed over showed a dark-haired man with green eyes half-closed and glazed over in death. His head and one arm were all that was visible under the jumble of rocks, the dark spot that Lex had noted earlier extending out under his head. Lex looked back up at Kyla, "I don't see any indication..."

Grabbing the photo from Lex, Kyla pointed to the junction of one of the rocks and the head of the unfortunate man. "There. You can just see it." When Lex failed to respond, she tapped the spot impatiently. "He was wearing a metal collar. I've never seen anything like it before, but I can tell you it sliced so far into his neck that I think he bled to death."

Looking at a photo taken at a different angle, Pete raised an objection to her statement. "Just because the collar cut his neck, it doesn't necessarily follow that it was murder. It could have happened as a result of the fall."

"You're in the middle of the Kawatche reservation, miles from *any* town, let alone Metropolis. I'll grant this collar might be a new kink in the city, but what was he doing out here alone, without any identification and dressed in hospital scrubs?" Kyla handed the photo back to Lex and waited for his answer as he shuffled through the rest of the photos quickly.

Placing the photos back into the envelope, Lex nodded. "I think, Ms. Willowbrook, that Agent Ross and I need to have a chat with the sheriff. Now." Jerking his head towards the Porsche, he handed the envelope to Pete, along with the keys. "I'd like you to meet us there, please."

Kyla shouldered her backpack before hugging her grandfather who had been waiting quietly to one side. "I'll see you later, PawPaw." She headed for her truck, calling back over her shoulder, "Follow me, Inspector Luthor. I know a shortcut."

Looking at the dusty 4x4 she was driving, Lex winced at the thought of his Porsche traveling along a rutted dirt road. He got into the car and buckled in, grimacing at Pete who was looking at him in consternation. "Follow her. She knows a fucking shortcut."

. . .

"Sorry, Lex." Pete turned the car off and sat, shoulders hunched, waiting for the explosion.

Closing his eyes and counting to ten silently, Lex took a deep breath. Feeling calmer, he reached over and clapped Pete on the shoulder. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have let her get to me and just insisted on taking a road to the station instead of a cattle trail." His mouth quirked, "My mechanic is gonna love this story. At least it isn't bullet holes this time." He opened the door and got out, brushing the dust that had filtered through the vents off his clothes, and straightening his tie.

Kyla was waiting for them at the door and as they approached, she yanked it open and walked in, her stride impatient with any delay. The two agents followed close behind, all three halting at the front desk. Lex and Pete pulled out their badges, asked to speak to the sheriff and were directed down the hall to his office, Kyla following silently. When Lex knocked on the door, a gruff voice instructed them to come in.

"Sheriff Ethan? I'm Inspector Luthor and this is Agent Ross. I understand there was a body brought in from the reservation yesterday?" Lex and Pete shook hands with the sheriff who had risen from his seat behind a government-issue desk. "I'd like to see what you have on it so far."

Frowning, the sheriff looked at his watch. "Well, I'd say you boys are about three hours too late." He walked out from behind the desk and over to a file cabinet in the corner. "I tried calling your office, but they said you were already on your way here." Reaching into the top drawer, the sheriff pulled out a folder and offered it to Lex. "Here's what we have, basically another waste of taxpayer money. We should start charging them every time we have to chase one of them down and return it." When Ethan saw Kyla start to object, he shook his head, raising a hand to calm her down. "I know Kyla, you thought you were doing the right thing, but I told you that it was just an accident and nothing to worry about."

Lex finished flipping through the file and handed to Pete without a word. Pete glanced at the scanty contents and looked up puzzled. "Where's the autopsy report?"

Ethan sighed, a sour look settling in on his face. "You see, that's the thing. We only file autopsy reports on humans."

. . .

The coffee in the break room was the same dark, bitter brew found in police stations across the country. Lex sipped gingerly, wincing as it mixed with the acid in his empty stomach. He set the Styrofoam cup down on the counter, deciding Pete and Kyla had been smart refusing any. The sheriff swigged heartily from his mug before continuing his explanation, obviously blessed with a cast iron digestive system. "I was pretty sure it was another one of those estees, but we had to go through the motions until the doc could confirm it." Refilling his mug and adding what looked like a quarter-cup of sugar to it, the sheriff took another gulp. "The lab boys came and took it away about a half an hour after Kyla made me call your office." He frowned again. "Biggest waste of time..."

"Estees?" Pete jumped in with the same question Lex was getting ready to pose. "What lab?"

"Estees, that's what we call 'em around here. The lab boys call them S-T-B-C's, short for Short Term Biological Constructs. Pain in the asses is what I'd like to call 'em."

Kyla, who had been pacing impatiently, interrupted. "I found a dead man in the cave. Why are we talking about these estee things?"

The sheriff rolled his eyes at the irate woman. "I've been trying to tell you." He set his mug down and crossed his arms, resting them on his generous stomach. "It wasn't a man. It was an android. One of those goddamn machines that looks damn human, but isn't. Seems like we get one of them wandering around town every few weeks or so and my deputies pick it up and call the lab and they come down and take it away. Nuisances, plain and simple."

"The body looked human in the photographs and there was a lot of blood on the floor of the cave." Lex wasn't completely convinced yet. "Are you positive it was one of these androids?"

"I can get the doc in here if you want." Ethan seemed annoyed that his explanation wasn't accepted without question. "According to him, what 'blood' was left in it tested out non-human, so we turned it over and closed the case, such as it was."

Pete had his notebook out and was recording everything. He looked up and asked another question. "You said a lab came out and picked up the 'body'. What lab was it?"

"Cadmus Labs. They're in Metropolis. It's getting so that we should have them on speed-dial." Pushing away from the counter he'd been leaning on, Ethan made it clear that as far as he was concerned, it was the end of the discussion. "Stop by the front desk if you want and Betty'll give the address and phone number." He offered his hand in a polite dismissal. "Again, sorry you came all this way for nothing."

Frustrated, Kyla left the break room and stomped down the hall, her angry mutters floating back to the three men. Pete and Lex shook the sheriff's hand and said goodbye before they walked out after Kyla, the details about Cadmus Labs duly noted by Pete.

Kyla was waiting outside and descended on them immediately. "You're not just going to walk away from this, are you?"

Lex shrugged. "According to the sheriff, there's nothing to investigate."

Arms flung wide, Kyla shouted, "I saw that man! He was dead! And he *was* a man, not a machine!" Her fists clenched in impotent rage. "I can't believe this! It's a cover-up!"

Stepping forward, Pete attempted to calm her down. "We'll check out the lab and let you know what we find out. Will that satisfy you?" He looked at Lex, his eyes asking Lex to back him up.

"Yeah, we can check it out." Passing a hand over his head, Lex rubbed the tightening muscles in his neck, uncomfortable with the woman's anger. "I'm kind of interested in finding out more about these biological constructs anyway."

Calming, now that it seemed like her protests were no longer being ignored, Kyla nodded. "All right, I'll wait to hear from you." She picked up her backpack that had been dropped carelessly to the ground. "My name and number are in the envelope with the photos." Turning, she strode away, her back straight and long dark hair swinging.

Pete looked sideways at Lex and grinned. "She's something, isn't she?"

"Just your type, Pete. Loud and proud." Lex chuckled. "You just want another chance to talk to her, that's why you agreed to follow up on the lab."

"Don't you think it's worth checking out?"

Lex walked over the car and waited for Pete to unlock the doors. "Actually, I do. For some reason the name sounds familiar." Opening the door, he took off his coat and tie, placing them on the back seat before sitting down in the passenger seat again. "Home, James."

Shaking his head, Pete slid behind the wheel. "You are getting so spoiled, Lex."

Eyes already closed, Lex's grin was lazy. "Hell, you've already trashed the suspension today. You may as well finish the job before I hand it over to Hank for an overhaul."

Pete didn't bother to reply, just pulled out of the parking lot leaving just enough rubber behind to make it clear what he thought about that remark.

. . .

"Hey, I'm hungry. Why don't we stop for something to eat before we leave Smallville?" Pete had seen Lex wince and reach for the antacids he kept in the glove box and knew that he most likely hadn't eaten yet that day. In the six months he'd been working with him, Pete had learned that Lex tended to become obsessed with cases and forget about basic human needs like food and sleep. He'd also learned that he could get Lex to slow down if he claimed to be the one who was hungry or tired, something Lex wouldn't do until he was ready to pass out.

<;p class=MsoPlainText>

Crunching down on the chalky tablet, Lex shrugged, "Sure, that sounds like a good idea. Any idea where we should go?"

"Well, it's been years since we moved away, so I really don't..."

"Wait, you used to live here?"  Lex's obvious double-take left Pete laughing.

"Yeah. Back before Smallville became 'The Meteor Capital of the World', it was 'The Creamed Corn Capital'. My family owned the factory at the edge of town." Pete glanced at Lex, who was looking through the windshield as if he were seeing ghosts. "After my dad sold it, we moved to Metropolis...Lex, are you okay?"

Jumping when Pete touched his shoulder, Lex shuddered and then took a deep breath. "Sure, I'm fine. It was just...," The pale hand that skimmed the top of his skull was shaking. "I said I'd tell you about this, didn't I?"  Loosening another button on his shirt, he fumbled at his cuffs, finally opening them and folding them back, exposing his wiry forearms. "I was here the day the meteors fell. It was the same day...my father died."

. . .

"I don't really remember much about that day." Pete and Lex had placed their order and were sitting in a booth in the diner that Pete had found on Main Street. When he'd heard the distress in Lex's voice, Pete had suggested Lex wait until after they'd stopped, so that Pete could pay attention to the road. Now they were both looking out the window at a fairly busy intersection while waiting for their burgers and fries to arrive. "We'd had flown out to look at some property my father was interested in. While he was busy talking to some men, probably the owners, I wandered out into a corn field." Lex wiped his sweating palms off on a flimsy napkin, shredding it in the process. "The rest is pretty much a blur of images that make it pretty tough to sleep sometimes."

"So, your dad?"

"Yeah, they told me it was instantaneous, that he wouldn't have felt a thing. I guess he was looking for me when one of the meteors came right down on him. Not much left." Lex's head was down, his eyes focused on the patterns he was drawing on the speckled formica table top. "I woke up in a hospital, minus my hair."

Pete gave a low whistle. "Man, that had to suck. I'm sorry." He reached out to grasp Lex's forearm, giving it a quick squeeze and letting go. "I thought maybe it was from chemo. It didn't look like you shaved, but I didn't want to ask." He frowned. "How old were you? You never told me your age..."

Lex looked up and made an effort to smile. "Guess it never came up. I just turned thirty-one." A more genuine smile reached his eyes. "My younger brother is twenty-five. He was only three when it happened, so he claims he doesn't remember my red hair. He was lucky; he ended up with blonde curls while I was blessed with a color most clowns would envy." The arrival of their meal interrupted him. Sitting back, Lex let the waitress set his plate down and ask him if there was anything else he needed. Thanking her, he declined a second cup of coffee and began to eat, slowly at first, then with a real hunger. All conversation was abandoned until his plate was empty and he looked up to see Pete grinning at him. "What?"

"Just sitting here wondering if you'd ever eat if I didn't drag you into a restaurant every now and then. You're a bag of bones, Lex. How you manage not to get sick..."

"I'm perfectly healthy, I'm just all muscle."

"Right, tell me another one. Remember, I've seen you in the gym when we're working out."

Lex shrugged, deciding not to pursue the argument. "I don't get sick, never have since then. I guess it was worth losing my hair." Throwing several bills down to cover the check, he stood up. "Let's get back on the road. We've got just enough time to visit Cadmus Labs before we call it a day, if you can manage not to drive like a little old lady." He ducked, laughing, as Pete sprang up out of his seat and pretended to throw a punch.

"Little old lady. Hunh. Good thing your hair's already gone because it would be white after I break every speed limit between here and Metropolis."

"Yeah, yeah. you talk a good game..." The two men continued their good-natured bantering all the way out to the car, the shadow of the past temporarily banished in the bright sunlight.

. . .

"I'm Inspector Luther, and this is Agent Ross. We're here to speak to the director, a Dr. Garner." Lex and Pete showed their badges to the guard at the front desk, who nodded and called the director's office. A few minutes later, a dark-haired man, who looked to be in his late thirties, exited the elevator and headed in their direction. He was wearing a white lab coat, left unbuttoned, revealing well-fitted clothing by a designer Lex recognized.

"Inspector Luthor. Agent Ross." The two FBI agents were greeted with a cool nod, no handshake offered. "I'm Dr. Garner. How can I help you?"

Lex nodded to Pete, giving him a chance to start. "We'd like to ask a few questions about a body picked up by your people today in Smallville. We understand Cadmus Labs claims it wasn't human and that Cadmus owned it."

Looking around the lobby, Dr. Garner seemed to come to a decision. "Why don't we go to my office, gentlemen, and I'll see if I can answer your questions there." Waving the guard over, the director instructed him to sign the agents in and assign them temporary badges. That completed, the director lead them to the elevator.

The ride up was silent, as was the walk to the well-appointed office. Once the door was closed behind them, and they had all taken seats, Dr. Garner began. "I'm sorry for the delay, Inspector Luthor, but you understand the security protocols. If you'd called ahead, we would have made sure your access badge was ready and waiting." Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a sheet of paper that he slid in front of Pete. "Agent Ross, I'll have to ask you to sign this confidentiality agreement before we proceed. We'll be discussing highly-classified and proprietary information."

Pete picked up the form to read it, leaving Lex looking at the director in puzzlement. "Why does he need to sign this? What about me?"

Dr. Garner seemed nonplussed at the question. "I understand you're here in an official capacity, but why would I have you sign a non-disclosure agreement, Inspector?"

"Because Agent Ross is not the only one asking questions here, *Doctor*." Lex was losing his patience, rapidly.

"I'm afraid I don't understand the difficulty, Inspector." Dr. Garner shook his head in bewilderment.

"After all, you *own* Cadmus Labs."

. . .

"Queen to Kings Rook 4. Checkmate." The tall figure standing at the window did not turn back to make his final move on the chessboard, knowing his opponent would recognize his defeat without needing the evidence. "Do you wish to play again, Father?"

A small clicking sound preceded mechanical tones, the phrasing short and concise. "No, I am tired. I will sleep."

Leaving his station, the young man approached the hospital bed, moved the chessboard back against the wall and re-positioned the mirror that had reflected the board and pieces back to the bed's occupant. Checking the many tubes and hoses that sustained a body so cruelly injured, he adjusted several before smoothing back thin white hair and placing a gentle kiss on an age-furrowed brow. "Sleep well, Father. I'll stay for a while longer in case you decide you need anything else." Smiling fondly, he watched the beloved eyes close before returning to his former position at the window, looking out over the city as the street lights took over the duties of the setting sun.

Bringing his gaze inward and stepping back, he regarded his reflection against the darkening sky, the cold sterile lights overhead doing nothing to warm his features. His hand came up to trace the sharp-cut lines of cheek and chin, eyes hooded and dark under black curls that brushed his shoulders, skin translucent, as pale as the moon. The face was deceptively serene, no sign of the concern and dismay he hid carefully every day as his father grew weaker. He knew that he would have to leave his gilded cage soon, but he delayed, unwilling to depart while the man who had sheltered him for over twenty years still lived.

Glancing over his shoulder to confirm his charge still slept, he began to pace, shoulders slightly rounded as he thrust his large hands in his pockets, head down and occupied with memory. He'd forgotten nothing, remembered everything, everything that had happened since he had arrived on this planet amidst a fiery rain of meteors. Remembered, and knew that on his father's death, his life would be forfeit, handed over to those who saw him as nothing but a resource to be exploited for personal gain.

 Pausing, he stood at the foot of the bed that held the one that kept him safe and remembered the day they had met, when they had seen each other for the first time. Not the first human, not even the second or third, that honor belonged to three he had never seen again after that long day of fire. They were the beginning, for he knew nothing of his origins, about his people, his family, or his world. Nothing.

The first was a boy, hurt and shaking in the middle of smoldering green vegetation, his beautiful red hair fallen and dispersing on the wind. The boy had needed help and he had returned to his ship for his blanket. Rolling the boy onto the red fabric, tucking his key into torn and burnt clothing, he had been able to drag the shaking boy until he reached a vehicle overturned on the side of a road. A man and a woman were emerging, stunned but unhurt. The woman had beautiful red hair also, and he was sure the injured boy had belonged to them, the woman and the blond man with the kind blue eyes. He had known they would care for him. He'd made sure the key was still safe in the boy's clothing before returning to his ship, remembering that he had left it open and understanding that he needed to conceal it quickly. He never saw the man, woman or boy again.

The men who surrounded him when he returned to the ship did not hurt him, but he was forced to enter a truck and he had been unable to see where they were taking him and his ship from or where they were headed. He'd seen or heard nothing he recognized until the back of the truck opened. He stepped out and looked up at the open sky. It was the last time he'd been outside a building, the start of twenty-two years of confinement behind glass and stone.

. . .

"I'm afraid the badly-damaged unit that we retrieved today has already been disposed of, Inspector, but if you like I can give you a tour of the facility since you don't seem aware of what we are doing here as a subsidiary of LuthorCorp. If Agent Ross will just..."

Dr. Garner's obsequious manner grated on Lex. It was bad enough that the reason Cadmus Labs was familiar would most likely be found buried in some prospectus he'd casually tossed in the fireplace after glancing through it. Having some scientist pretend to fawn over him, while getting in a few snide digs at his ignorance of his family's holdings, was enough to make Lex actually consider attending the next board meeting. Only the thought of Julian's unholy glee at the return of the prodigal son kept him from calling his younger brother and demanding that he join them for the proposed tour. Standing abruptly, Lex grabbed the piece of paper from Pete and crumpled it before dropping on the director's desk. "Since I own this facility, I'll decide whether or not Agent Ross is allowed entry without signing any quasi-legal bullshit." Gesturing to Pete to follow, Lex strode to the door and flung it open. "I trust I've made that decision crystal-clear, Dr. Garner?"

. . .

"The first phase of the construct process takes place on this level." Dr. Garner's sentences were clipped, his disgruntlement at being overruled by his employer apparent in his attitude. "The blanks are matured here before being transferred to the training level."

The ride down in the secured elevator had been silent, Lex lost in memory, Pete reluctant to disturb him with questions. Now that the tour had begun, Pete no longer felt constrained. "Why are they called Short Term Biological Constructs?"

Dr Garner turned and surveyed the FBI agent, looking to Lex for direction before answering Pete's question.

His stoic face revealing nothing of the thoughts racing through his brain, Lex raised one sardonic eyebrow. "Just consider any question from Agent Ross as coming from me, Dr. Garner."

Nodding, the director began to explain. "Despite their human appearance, the biological constructs produced here at Cadmus Labs have no human DNA. They are grown from artificially created genetic material that has been designed to mimic the human form, with enhancements." Dr. Garner pushed through a set of swinging doors, leading them into an eerily lit corridor, one side consisting of a glass panel looking into a lab containing multiple large canisters made of some clear material and metal. "They are fully matured in 60 days, at which point they are ready for imprinting before being placed in their assigned slots."

As Pete and Lex walked along the corridor behind Dr. Garner, they could see into the canisters that were being tended to by white-coated technicians. They seemed to hold human bodies of varying ages, yet they all had the same features and jet black hair. Pete stopped in front of one and touched the glass that separated them from the busy lab, frowning. "They really look human."

"They aren't," Dr. Garner snapped. "If you withdrew circulatory fluid from them and tested it, there would be no match against human DNA." As Pete turned to face him, the doctor sneered. "That's why we have no difficulty retrieving any units that happen to wander away. They can't be shown to be anything but what they are; non-human temporary resources in high-risk professions or locations."

Lex stepped forward, forcing Dr. Garner to retreat a step and compose his face. "High-risk professions? Give me an example."

"I can give you several. The highest rate of injury for all professions is in the field of nursing. Closely following are firefighters, miners and forestry workers. The constructs can be imprinted to handle any of these jobs with low failure rates and substantial savings in insurance, medical costs and financial settlements for the companies choosing to use them in place of humans." Dr. Garner turned and began walking back to the elevator, clearly expecting the other two men to follow. "I can show you the advantages more easily on the next level, where the imprinting takes place."

Entering the elevator behind the director, Pete and Lex exchanged glances, Lex nodding to Pete's unvoiced question. Pulling his notebook from his pocket, Pete flipped it open to write down some of his observations before asking Dr. Garner, "I noticed you didn't mention police or military as one of the high-risk professions. Is there a reason?"

Dr. Garner made a disgusted sound as he exited the elevator into a brightly-lit corridor. "We are perfectly capable of imprinting the blanks for those positions. Unfortunately, there is opposition in certain segments of the government that seems to think that allowing non-humans to injure or kill humans is a bad idea. As a result, we haven't been able to obtain the contracts – yet." The choking sound behind him didn't slow Dr. Garner at all, as he advanced toward a set of doors. "The fools just need to be shown the advantages."

As they stepped through the doors, Pete and Lex came to a halt, staring open-mouthed at the sight of dozens of men with the same face performing the same actions in unison. Dr. Garner's smirk was back in full force as he looked between the two men and the constructs. "As you can see, the constructs can move much more quickly than a human. They're as strong as ten men and require no food as long as they are exposed to UV radiation for four hours a day. They are resistant to injury and since they can't be affected by human diseases or toxins, they are perfectly suited for working with highly infectious or toxic wastes."

"Why were they made to look so human?" Lex couldn't look away from the faces of the constructs, green eyes, chiseled features, perfect skin, wavy black hair, each of them the envy of any male outside of the modeling profession. "Why not just make them look like...a robot?"

"Studies showed that the more human the features, the better they were able to interface with humans. Non-human characteristics in a humanoid form made humans subliminally uncomfortable. Other shapes were considered during design but cost factors favored using the human shape to allow use of existing human tools and clothing." Dr. Garner rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "I think you've seen everything. I hope that you're satisfied with the answers to your questions?"

Still watching the precise, rapid movements of the army of constructs, Lex nodded absently. Pete began to close his notebook, stopping to look up at Dr. Garner. "Wait, short term. They're called that because you build them so quickly?"

Dr. Garner's bark of laughter brought Lex's head around. "No. They're short term because they're designed to cease functioning 36 months after they are brought to maturity. We bring them back here when they start to fail at 32 months and use them internally before destroying them. Built-in obsolescence, gentlemen, and Cadmus Labs is the only production facility worldwide. The technologies developed and used for this process have made LuthorCorp the fastest growing company in the world."

. . .

The dark room was silent except for the crackling of the fire and the soft clink of the ice in Lex's glass. Staring into the flames, he sat deep in his leather armchair appreciating the heat, the cold stone of the mansion never truly warm enough for him, despite the season. He let his head drop back, his eyes half-closed as he reviewed the day's events. Somewhere in the middle of a murder that wasn't, men that weren't men and an ill-timed reminder of his past was a hint of something else, a memory that danced along the edges, taunting him.

The drive back to the garage where Pete had left his car had been uncomfortably silent. Lex had missed the easy banter with Pete, the first man he'd felt comfortable with since he'd left Bruce Wayne and Excelsior behind for Princeton. He feared his first tentative steps toward the kind of friendship he'd craved all of his life were in vain, his chance destroyed once again by the revelation of who Lex Luthor really was in Metropolis. He drained the remainder of his scotch, tempted to ignore his self-imposed limit of a single drink per day. Shaking his head at his weakness, he set the empty glass down on the table beside him and stood, stretching out muscles that had been inactive for too long that day.

The phone on the desk behind him beckoned, the hunger for the sound of a friendly voice gnawing at his center. He turned away from temptation, knowing that he'd lost one lifeline that day and fearing the second would fall victim to a confrontation he dreaded. Sleep would be a better choice, if he could manage to silence his doubts, so he headed for his lonely bedroom upstairs, hoping for the best.

He undressed slowly, methodically, hanging his suit up neatly, placing the rest of his clothing in the hamper and leaving all evidence he existed behind closed doors and tidy drawers. Washing his face and brushing his teeth were both managed without facing himself in the mirror that extended across the dual sinks in his private bathroom. He didn't want to look at what Pete had finally seen today, the face of Alexander Joseph Luthor, one of the heirs to the Luthor fortune, one of the owners of LuthorCorp.

Lying on his Egyptian cotton sheets in the dark, Lex closed his eyes hoping to banish his thoughts long enough to get a few hours of sleep. Instead, the meeting with that slimy bastard Garner replayed in his head, the barely-suppressed sneer at Lex's ignorance of his connection to Cadmus Labs galling. The irony was that he'd not wanted to join, be part of LuthorCorp from the very beginning, didn't covet the money at his disposal even though he did take advantage of it at times, his designer clothing and car perfect examples. Living in comfortable apartments in the cities he'd been assigned to, he had few possessions, was accustomed to moving somewhere new every year or so. That had changed this time, his mother asking that he move back in temporarily, to take his time finding a new apartment even though he didn't care for the ostentatious display of wealth Lillian Luthor surrounded herself with. Yet here he was, still in the same room he'd had since he was a boy. He'd made no move to relinquish the mansion after his mother died, inertia keeping him in place, tethered to lonely spaces. Julian hadn't wanted the place they'd grown up in, preferring the penthouse on the top floor of the LuthorCorp Tower, believing it was more fitting for his role as President and CEO of the family business Lex had turned his back on.

Julian had always been the better choice to carry on, to take over the business, despite his mother's constant attempts to pull Lex back in, to convince him to take his rightful place as the eldest Luthor son. Lex had resisted, his course set early on after being kidnapped the year after his father died. The kidnappers had chosen their target badly. Lillian had been fierce in her rejection of the demand for ten million dollars and the kidnappers had been forced to decide whether to release Lex or to repeat the demand with evidence that they were serious. Fortunately, the FBI had been able to profile and identify the kidnappers, and then rescue Lex before any permanent damage had been done. No permanent damage, that is, to anything but his view of the world he was being groomed to rule.

Lex had been fascinated by the FBI team's intelligence and dedication. He devoured books on criminology and police procedure, questioned his bodyguard at length about his experiences as an officer in the military police and finally concluded that was what he wanted to do with his life. Obtaining his law degree first had kept his mother at bay; her undimmed hope that he would ultimately decide to join the company finally quenched when the FBI recruited him while he was still at Princeton. He'd entered training at Quantico the week after graduation.

A superior trainee, Lex had been assigned all over the country, each office adding to the breadth of his knowledge until he made Inspector and earned his choice of assignments. His mother's failing heart had made the Metropolis bureau the logical selection, a concession to Lillian after the years of refusing to bow to her wishes. Now, after earning the respect of the other agents, he faced isolation, an unwanted distance imposed by wealth and privilege. Lex could only hope he would be able to explain to Pete why he had concealed his connections to LuthorCorp and that he had no desire to pick up the reins dropped by Lillian. Grimacing in the dark, Lex reasoned that moving out of the mansion was a good first step.

Lex knew divesting himself of all of his LuthorCorp holdings would be much more difficult. He had never taken the time to understand exactly what he owned, what he was responsible for even in absentia. Cadmus Labs was just a long-delayed wakeup call. Seeing what Luthor money had created had left Lex feeling slightly ill, a feeling he thought he saw echoed in Pete's face as they'd watched the doomed STBC's. Ultimately, he was responsible for the body found on the reservation, responsible for Kyla Willowbrook's distress at finding that body, the construct.

Responsible or not, Lex was tempted to let Pete deliver the news that the murder, wasn't. Pete had thought Kyla was attractive and would probably appreciate the chance to spend some more time with her. She had been so passionate, handing them the pictures she'd taken and pointing out what she'd thought was wrong. Thinking about the photos reminded Lex of the niggling feeling he'd missed something, something buried in those photos.

Resigning himself to the fact that he would be unable to sleep until he'd found the missing piece, he got up and padded downstairs barefoot, shivering a little in the chilly halls since he was only wearing his pajama bottoms and had left his robe behind. Opening the safe he used to hold any case files he brought home with him, he pulled out the envelope and spread the photos out on his desk. He held each one under the light from his desk lamp, searching carefully for whatever it was that had disturbed him.

He found what he was looking for in the next to the last photo. Kyla had backed up for the shot so that the entire rockfall with the body underneath was visible. That wasn't all. The flash had illuminated the walls of the cave and the symbols he had seen but dismissed. Staring at them, he tried to recall where he had seen something similar. Tracing one symbol in particular with his finger, it suddenly came to him and he stilled, frozen in memory.

Carrying the photo with him, ignoring the others still scattered across his desk, Lex returned to his room. Switching on a light, he opened the bottom drawer of one of his dressers and pulled out a small, oddly heavy box. He sat on the rug and opened it, the memory of the day his mother had given it to him soothing his agitation. Reaching inside, he pulled out a much-folded envelope and opened it, tipping it over and allowing an object to fall out onto his palm. The octagon felt right in his hand, felt like it belonged, the metal warming immediately, shimmering under the light. He held it next to the photo and then nodded. He had been right. He looked at the envelope lying in the box, not needing to pick it up again. He knew the envelope held a note written by Martha Kent and their return address, in Smallville, where his nightmares began.

. . .

"Comfortable?"

Knowing the question was by rote and that any response in the negative was meaningless, the young man simply nodded and closed his green eyes, settling his head between the padded clamps. Both arms had already been strapped down on the specialized chair to ensure the needles used for the transfer would not work loose or cause tissue damage during the six hours it took to extract, filter and replace the entire contents of his circulatory system. Years of experience had taught him that his mind was the best place to retreat into, that no recorded music or movie could surpass his total recall as he entertained and rejected his choices. He finally settled on the Latin translation of 'The Odyssey', the annals of the unlucky voyager appealing to him that day. He visualized the weighty words and let them flow unvoiced, allowing the steady internal cadence to distract him from the steady pulling at his veins and the sucking purr of the machinery.

While one segment of his brain was pleasantly occupied with the ancient work, another worried at the problem of his father's failing health. Each day, he lost more strength and slept more often, the machines he was attached to barely sustaining his precious life. Still, despite his father's knowledge that his death was imminent, he had consistently refused to discuss any of the provisions made for his son, left in a wait state. In his worst nightmare, he was escorted away to a lesser prison, a laboratory, and the vivisection that had been kept at bay by his father's orders would finally take place.

He rarely let himself hope for release, for an escape into a world he knew only from the books and movies carefully selected to hide any useful knowledge of the world outside. His caretakers had been forbidden to speak to him beyond basic commands or information, his father had been his only teacher. He'd understood that was one of the conditions that kept him in these surroundings, that he remain handicapped, ignorant, without the means to function successfully outside the few rooms he had grown up in.

He'd grasped from his reading that he would need a medium of exchange, some sort of money, and transportation, but beyond that, he did not have enough experience to be able to formulate a useful plan. Nonetheless, he had no other choice but to try, even if it was for just the few days he could expect to live away from the machine that was currently filtering out the poisons that would ultimately kill him. That was the best he could hope for, a few days of freedom before death, for some time spent in the sun, the sun he'd only felt on his skin the day he arrived, and never again.

. . .

The ID that flashed on his cell phone's display made Lex grin, his voice reflecting his pleasure as he answered. "Julian! Are you back?"

A chuckle preceded his younger brother's reply. "Got back in late yesterday. God, it felt good to sleep in my own bed for a change."

"You're the one who thought he needed to make some new connections in Korea, or was it Thailand?"

"At least one of us is trying to keep LuthorCorp in the front of the pack. Speaking of which, what's this I hear about you showing up for a tour? Finally showing an interest?"

Lex thought he detected an edge underneath Julian's mocking words, but decided he'd been mistaken when Julian cheerfully issued an invitation to meet him for dinner that evening. "That sounds great, Julian. I'll meet you at Guliani's at eight. Later."  Hanging up, Lex frowned at the phone in his hand. He wasn't sure why he hadn't said anything to Julian about returning to Cadmus Labs. He supposed he was postponing a confrontation as long as possible, wanting as much information as he could gather before discussing what was happening there, under the auspices of LuthorCorp.

"Whoever they are, I'm sure their ears are burning, the way you're scowling at that phone." Pete's good-natured teasing brought Lex's head up and around, a relieved smile replacing the frown as he saw no recriminations in the handsome face peering over his shoulder. "What's on the agenda for today and more importantly, do I get to drive again?"

Snorting, Lex pushed back from his desk and stood, forcing Pete to step back out of the way. "I always knew you only liked me for the car."

"Well yeah, I mean I'm not really into the whole bald thing you know, let alone the part where you're a guy." Pete rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, prompting a full-bellied laugh from Lex.

"C'mon, you unrepentant heterosexual. Let's go get some decent coffee and I'll fill you in." Lex hoped Pete's good humor wouldn't evaporate when he heard what Lex planned to do next.

. . .

"Why a leave of absence?" The look of bafflement crossed Pete's face when Lex started explaining and he'd interrupted Lex almost immediately. "Doesn't it make sense to use the Bureau's resources?"

Lex sighed and looked down into his coffee before answering. "I don't feel right doing that, Pete. I know it's my company and if I want to open it up for scrutiny, it's my choice." He swirled the cup on the table before lifting it to his lips to finish. "The thing is, it's my brother's company too and it would be an abuse of powers to have the Bureau investigating when there are no grounds for suspicion." He looked up and into Pete's eyes. "We'd never do it that way if it were any other business, a business not owned by Luthors."

Lex was sure he detected a blush under Pete's dark skin as the other man ducked his head in chagrin. "God, you're right, Lex. I'm an idiot."

"Hey, it's OK." Lex waited for Pete to look back at him before continuing. "It bothered me too, yesterday. I didn't get much sleep last night thinking about them."

Pete frowned, his brows crinkled in concern. "It's just... I still don't believe that they're not somehow human, that maybe they're clones or something, something that's not supposed to be happening. And that Garner..."

"Uh-hunh."

"He is one seriously creepy dude." Pete's shiver was obvious. "Lex, man...if they *are* human in any way...that's slavery."

Lex nodded, his face grim. "Yeah. Slavery...and maybe something like...genocide."

. . .

Lex followed the STBC to an isolated office where he could review the information he'd requested on Cadmus Labs' projects in private. He'd been surprised when Dr. Garner had summoned the construct to his office and directed it to supply Lex with any information he asked for, immediately.

"I thought they were used for hazardous jobs?" Lex had looked between Garner and the STBC that stood quietly by the door, dressed in a short-sleeved coverall. It was looking straight ahead with no indication it was paying attention to their conversation.

"Ah yes. That. I did tell you we brought them back in for the last few months before disposal. We use them for low-level positions like janitorial staff or file clerks, jobs that won't suffer if they should happen to cease to function unexpectedly." Dr. Garner's voice had held the same barely concealed impatience that had annoyed Lex the previous day, leaving him resolved that if nothing else, he would find a way to replace the man before his investigation was complete.

Now, Lex shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair before looking at the construct that awaited instructions. Uncertain about how to proceed, he rubbed his hands together before smiling tentatively at the construct. "Before we start, can you show me where the restroom is located? Oh, and I would like a cup of coffee, please. Black."

Nodding, the construct turned and walked back out into the hallway and pointed to the left before walking in the opposite direction. Lex shrugged and went in the direction indicated, finding the requested facilities two doors down, on the right. On his return, he found the construct waiting, the requested cup of coffee sitting on the desk. "Good. Thanks." Lex sat down behind the desk and grabbed the cup, blowing on it before sipping. "Let's start with the initial prospectus for the Short Term Biological Construct project and the test plans. Oh, and I'll want the development workflow." Lex frowned as he looked at the construct standing in front of the desk. "Can you find those and bring them to me?" The construct nodded and left without a word and Lex sat back in his borrowed chair and wondered what he had just let himself in for and how badly he was going to regret it.

. . .

Slapping the latest folder closed, Lex threw it on top of the pile waiting to be taken back to the file room. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes for a moment, opening them when he heard a slight noise. The construct had returned with another set of files and the sound had been one of the few it had made in the last four hours they had been working. In between its forays to the file room, it stood waiting patiently by the door, never moving, never speaking.

"Do you have a name?" Lex surprised himself with the question and then when he thought about it, felt ashamed that he had never thought to ask before. Why had he not bothered with the common courtesy owed to anyone? Had he already decided subconsciously that the construct was a thing, asking whether it...*he* had a name, rather than asking what *his* name was, just like anyone else he might meet?  Frowning at the disturbing thought, Lex got up from his chair and came around the desk to stand in front of the blank-faced construct. "What is your name?" The construct's green eyes met his briefly before dropping down and looking to the left. Lex followed the movement automatically to see the construct holding out its left arm, palm up.

Too many cups of coffee and Lex was sure every one of them had just been flushed away along with half of his still-roiling stomach and he didn't think he'd ever be able to forget, would never be able to blot out the sight of those numbers and the date tattooed on the underside of the construct's left arm, *his* left arm, the date two weeks in the future and the number, the same number he'd seen in photographs, tattooed on men and women who had been *herded* like, god, and his eyes were so green and they held pain behind the forced blankness and...just...fuck. Just...fuck.

. . .

"The last time I was here, the veal piccata was particularly good."

"Hmmm."

"Of course, I thought having a naked server deliver it to the table was bit over the top."

"Uh-hunh."

Lex's eyes lifted from the menu he was perusing as he felt it being pushed down gently by a long elegant finger. Amused blue eyes met his over the top.

"You really haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

Flushing, Lex grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Julian. Just a little...pre-occupied I guess."

"Tough case?"

Lex looked at the smiling face across from him and his stomach clenched at the thought that his brother, his mother's fair-haired child, could be involved with Cadmus Labs, could be in the business of manufacturing and selling lives. If he was wrong, if Julian wasn't aware and he accused him without proof, he could lose that smile, that unquestioning acceptance and loyalty he'd depended most of his life. He couldn't say anything, not yet. He couldn't, wouldn't take that risk but...

"Lex?"

He looked into those eyes now shadowed with concern, the ready smile fading more every second Lex failed to answer. Lex grasped for words, the right words, panicking. He shook his head, trying desperately to dismiss the memory of dulled green eyes, lifeless, disappearing behind the zipper that closed a black body bag on something that...no...*someone* who had been alive just minutes before, Garner's patently false distress at the premature failure of the construct assigned to help him...

"Lex?"

He felt Julian take his shaking hand, the concern in his voice cutting through Lex's racing thoughts. Summoning a smile from somewhere, Lex reassured him. "Yeah, Julian, a really tough one, but I think I'm coming close to finding out something...very important. Something that'll crack it wide open."

 . . .

The clouds had lifted just after sunset and the stars were beckoning. Knowing that his father would be asleep for a few more hours, the young man left his favored position by the window and walked upstairs to the next level. There, they had set up a powerful telescope so that he could look at the stars, map the constellations, and sometimes dream of a night sky without barriers, whenever the weather permitted. He realized the telescope was trivial compared to the one used to track his arrival. That one was located elsewhere and he'd never seen it, although his father had told stories of picking up signals years before he and the meteors came to Earth. Fascinated, his father had poured all of his vast resources and knowledge into technologies that allowed him to decode the signals, calculate times and trajectories and prepare for...him, the sole survivor.

Adjusting the focus carefully, he bent over to peer out at the heavens. He had positioned the telescope earlier to point toward the planet or where a planet once was, a planet he would have called home. He and the meteors were the only physical remainders, they and his vehicle, the ship that had cradled him during his solitary journey. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure where the ship was now. After repeated attempts through the years to persuade him, he had finally convinced his father that he had no idea how to open it, and it had been taken away and the matter dropped. Somehow, he had known from the start that the men, who had taken him and his ship from the field that day, were not to be trusted. Years later, he still didn't understand why he hadn't entrusted the secret to his father, told him about the missing key.

Trust. He could love the man who protected him, but his complete trust had never been earned. If freedom had been offered from the start, if he'd been treated with kindness during those first days, it could have been very different. The memory of those days never faded, never allowed him to forget that he was not the same, not human and that he could do nothing to prevent a return to that fear and pain. Nothing that is, except feign a childish innocence, pretending to be complacent and obedient, a pretense that had soon become all too real.

Isolated, he understood he was imprisoned, despite the comforts he'd come to expect. His father had spoken often, before speech became too difficult to sustain conversation, of the need for secrecy, the danger of alerting the government to his existence. Insisting that his origins were never to be revealed to anyone, his father had declared silence in the presence of others as the best policy. Faced with the unvoiced threat of renewed experiments on his intermittent enhanced strength and speed or his ability to heal, he readily complied. His father had taken him away from that bleak cell and treated him kindly and had discovered the way to keep him alive on this planet that could not sustain him without assistance. His father had taught him everything he could within set boundaries and indulged a whim or two such as allowing him to select a favored food for his meal or to wear something that was not white, black or gray. His father was all he had that was good in this life.

A teardrop marred the gleaming surface of the telescope.

His father was dying.

So was his hope.

. . .

"Pete. Hey, I know it's late but I've got an early flight tomorrow and I wanted to fill you in."

Sitting at his desk in the quiet dark, the only light from the small lamp on the corner and the fire he'd lit earlier, Lex swirled the scotch in his glass and inhaled the biting, peaty tang without tasting. He'd already had his one drink earlier with Julian, so was limiting himself to sensory pleasures, the heft of the heavy crystal, the scent of the expensive well-aged liquor, and the sound of the ice clinking softly. He refused to give in, to allow just one more, to return to those days of excess despite the ever-present temptation.

"No problem. I'm glad you called. I wanted to pass on what Kyla told me today when I called her. It was really weird."

"Yeah? What was it?"

Lex set the glass down and pulled the legal pad that he'd been making notes on close enough to write if he needed to.

"Well, she was pretty upset when I told her about the constructs not being human, but I finally got her calmed down. She's really kind of cool when you get her talking about the work she's been doing on the Kawatche legends. The interesting part was what she said those symbols meant."

Lex sat up straighter in his chair.

"You mean the ones on the cave wall? They were in one of the photos she gave us."

"I know, I saw. Anyway, she said it was the legend of this god or warrior called Numan, who would come from the sky in a rain of fire. Supposedly he would have the strength of ten men and be able to shoot fire from his eyes."

"So?"

"So, this is in Smallville, the land of the weird. My parents would tell me about things happening there with their friends, things that happened after we moved away. They thought it was probably either from the meteors or Hamilton Technology."

"Wait. Did you say Hamilton Technology? Damn, that's another name I saw today."

Grabbing his pen, Lex circled the name on his notes.

"Yeah, that's who bought my family's creamed corn factory. So, the thing is the rain of fire...that's the meteors. And the constructs they seem to want to get back to Smallville according to the sheriff and they have..."

"The strength of ten men? I think you've been watching too many repeats of X-Files, Pete."

"You've got to admit it's a hell of a coincidence, Lex. Why else do those constructs keep showing up there?"

Lex's hand came to rest on left front pocket of his pants. He could feel the outline of the octagon, his fingertips tingling with the memory of tracing symbols that matched those painted on a rock wall hundreds of years before.

"I don't know, not yet anyway. And yes, I am interested in those symbols...for personal reasons. I'll have to wait a while longer to satisfy my curiosity, since I don't know what I'm going to find out in New York City."

"Why New York? What did you find out today at Cadmus?"

Lex closed his eyes, reluctant to revisit the day's disturbing events.

"Before it all fell apart today, I found out some of the details behind the constructs, how they're made, built, grown, whatever it is...and Cadmus isn't where it starts. They get shipments every week from another lab, one not owned by LuthorCorp. LuthorCorp doesn't hold the rights for the genetic material. They just own the equipment and the process for growing it."

"Wait. Back up. Fell apart?"

Lex sighed and reached for his glass without opening his eyes, the cool smooth sides soothing as he held it against his forehead.

"That bastard Garner assigned me one of the constructs, told it...*him* to pull any of the files I asked for. Everything was going okay until I got the bright idea to ask him, the construct, if he had a name."

"So?"

"Fuck. Pete, he had a tattoo on his left arm with a number. A number and the fucking date it...*he* was going to die, in two weeks. It made me sick, Pete, so sick...when I got back...he was dead. I think Garner did something because he was standing next to the body giving orders to the guys who picked it up."

"You're shitting me."

"I wish to hell I was, Pete. Garner's got to be behind all this, Pete. Julian..."

Opening his eyes, Lex caught himself absently raising the glass to his lips. He pulled it back and looked at it, mesmerized by the glint of the flames dancing in its depths.

"You had dinner with him tonight, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I didn't say anything. There's got to be some reason, some fast-shuffling going on with the Board of Directors or something. Julian would never do anything like this, he just wouldn't."

"Lex..."

"I know. I just want all the facts, Pete. I want to be sure first."

Lex could almost hear the struggle going on at the other end of the line.

"Lex, I..."

"Besides, I've got you to keep me honest, right?"

"Yeah, I've got your back, man."

Setting the glass back down without tasting, Lex pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed gently.

"Thanks."

 "So, where in New York?"

"I have an appointment to talk to the guy who developed the genetic material. He owns VS Biotech. I had to use my FBI credentials *and* the fact that I own LuthorCorp to get in to see him."

"So who is this genius?"

"He's a multi-billionaire that makes Howard Hughes look like a social butterfly, since no one has really seen him in the last twenty years or so. Virgil Swann."

. . .

Lex waited impatiently for Swann's security to verify his credentials. He wanted to get the interview over as quickly as possible, find what he was looking for so that he could understand exactly what was happening at Cadmus Labs and determine what he needed to do next, either as an owner or by enforcing the law. Reluctantly, he handed over his weapon to be held at the security station until he returned, feeling naked without the firearm he had carried for years. Finally, he was escorted to the private elevator that would take him to the top floor of Swann Tower, where he would meet the owner of Swann Industries and more specifically the genius behind VS Biotech.

Looking at the number of floors as he pressed the button, Lex smiled and pondered Julian's probable reaction to finding out Swann tower was five stories higher than LuthorCorp Plaza's twin towers. Knowing Julian's competitive spirit, he'd immediately decide to add a weather or radio station to the top of the towers to add enough height to allow him to state Swann Tower was shorter.

The thought of Julian left Lex grinning as he exited the elevator that opened directly on a spacious area with windows on all sides. Movable screens sectioned off the luxuriously carpeted space; a walled circular area in the center most likely contained storage areas and possibly a kitchen and bathroom. A ramp spiraled around the outside wall up to a second level where Lex could see a telescope pointing to the west.

As Lex stepped forward into the room, a young man, who had appeared unexpectedly around the corner of a painted Japanese screen, met him.  Head down, Lex pulled out his identification, only to stop when he saw the man's face. Eyes wide, Lex stopped with his hand in mid-air, baffled by the presence of one of the constructs.

"May I help you?"

The construct's voice was even, well-modulated and pitched low. It suited his calm demeanor, his lack of surpri